


like passing notes in secrecy

by TimeTurnedFragile



Category: Doctor Who RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Rock Band, Colepaldi, F/M, Flirting, RPF
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-01
Updated: 2015-12-01
Packaged: 2018-05-01 08:29:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,728
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5199113
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TimeTurnedFragile/pseuds/TimeTurnedFragile
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Peter learns that Jenna Coleman is really fucking funny. She’s sarcastic and witty and self-deprecating, and does things like put a hand on Peter’s arm when she’s about to make fun of herself.</p>
            </blockquote>





	like passing notes in secrecy

**Author's Note:**

> did i write this because of how hot peter is with a guitar? maybe. au where peter's band the dreamboys got famous so he ended up as a musician instead of an actor. would love to know what you think :].

He meets her the night of an award show. She is nominated for a movie Peter saw a while back, and he and the guys perform. They never would have even crossed paths, but they both end up at the same after party.

“Hey,” Temple says. “It’s been a while since I slept with a British chick.” The party’s dark with lots of blue lights and there must be a smoke machine somewhere, because there’s about six inches of fake fog covering the floor. It hides the step up to their booth so that Peter stumbles every time he gets in and out to go to the bathroom.

“No, it hasn’t,” Peter replies. “You literally did last week.”

Temple grins, and Peter knows that grin, knows Temple is about to say something at least mildly offensive. “Yeah, but she looked British.”

“So, you want to sleep with a British girl who doesn’t look British,” Peter says, and for Temple that actually makes a certain amount of sense. Or at least it’s par for the course.

He smiles devilishly at Peter and shoves his drink aside. “I need a new drink,” he announces and stands up. He takes a step toward the bar and then stops, reaching out to haul Peter out of the booth by the wrist. “I need a wingman.”

“What?”

“You look non-threatening.”

“Jesus.”

She’s sitting at the bar with the same guy she starred in the movie with. 

Temple walks up to her, dragging Peter behind him. Peter will never understand where he gets the balls, but he taps her on the shoulder, interrupting her conversation with a loud,

“Hi, I’m Temple Clark. We just wanted to come introduce ourselves. We’re big fans.” Peter rolls his eyes.

She looks at her costar for a moment and then turns to face them, a polite smile already in place. Peter drops his head, embarrassed. Sometimes Temple just doesn’t even understand what tact is.

“Oh, hi!” she says, and when Peter looks up, she’s looking right at him, smiling prettily. She is sort of disconcertingly beautiful.

“Um,” he says.

“You sang tonight! You were bloody brilliant!” Peter feels his eyebrows shoot up.

“Oh, um. Thank you. That’s really, that’s - thanks.”

“No, you were! Honestly! I was dancing and all!” She’s waving her hands around, sort of sloshing her drink. She stops suddenly and it’s dark so Peter can’t really tell but it looks a bit like she’s blushing. “I’m,” she smiles again, a bit softer this time. “I’m Jenna.” She holds out her hand and Peter can’t think of anything better to do but take it.

“Yeah,” he says. “I’m Peter.”

“Hullo, Peter.”

“Hi,” he says, and he’s actually a bit amused by now. He glances at Temple, who smirks at him and bows slightly as he backs away, turning to return to their booth in the corner.

“Really, though,” Jenna says, and it's obvious she hasn't even noticed Temple’s departure, “you were brill. You’ve got to let me buy you a drink; I’m such a fan now! What are you having?”

Peter shrugs. “Ginger ale?”

Jenna cocks her head at him. “Do you not drink?”

He shakes his head. “Not a lot, no.” She gapes.

“Seriously? That's amazing! I am the biggest lush, it’s unbelievable!”

“She really is,” the guy says. He sounds British, too, which is weird since Peter remembers thinking his accent sounded really fake in the movie. “She’s locked right now.”

Jenna laughs loudly. “Fuck off! Peter, this is Javier. He’s a bit touched, if you get my meaning.”

“Ta,” Javier says to her, winking. He shakes Peter’s hand. “Good to meet you. She really was dancing. It was horrific.”

Jenna laughs again. It’s a pretty nice laugh, really. “Fuck off,” she says to Javier again. He smiles again and then looks over her shoulder.

“Ah, there’s Sam.” He leans forward and they kiss each other’s cheeks. “I’m off,” he says. He nods at Peter. “Peter.” He gets up and pushes past them, making his way over to a tall blonde guy.

“Later,” Peter says. He looks up again and Jenna is still smiling.

“Quick,” she says, nodding at Javier’s empty stool. “Grab it before someone else gets any ideas.”

Peter sits down next to her and taps his hands on the bar top nervously. Jenna Coleman is chatting him up, he’s pretty sure of it.

“Let’s get you that ginger ale,” she says, and she leans in sort of close as she signals the bartender. Peter grins nervously, and she smiles back.

* * *

They talk until three about the most random shite in the world and Peter learns that Jenna Coleman is really fucking funny. She’s sarcastic and witty and self-deprecating, and does things like put a hand on Peter’s arm when she’s about to make fun of herself. She seems to have genuinely been impressed by the performance, and quizzes Peter about music for a while. She has appalling taste and laughs and laughs when Peter looks at her in horror for liking Junior Senior.

“I go to retro clubs with my mates in London!” she says, laughing. “I don’t know anything!”

“I’m making you a mix cd,” he says gravely, and she seems so honestly pleased by it, that he blushes just slightly.

He doesn’t ask for her number, and she doesn’t offer, but when Craig shows up at his shoulder to say they’re all heading out she does lean in and kiss him once, sweetly, on the corner of the mouth. Peter goes hot while Craig gapes and Jenna smiles.

* * *

He forgets about it, actually. They’re in the middle of a tour and they have to film two videos at once. There are things in Peter’s life that even Jenna Coleman cannot distract him from. Besides, he says to himself, when she shows up on the cover of Vogue in some random green room a few weeks later, it was just one conversation, one night. He hears she's dating that guy from Game Of Thrones, anyway. Robb fucking Stark, for fuck’s sake.

* * *

It’s another week, another show - another awesome show, actually. Peter’s still grinning when he makes it back to the bus, flushed and sweaty and completely stoked. He really does have the best job in the world.

The boys hop on after him, and Craig leaps over to the fridge, pulling out a bottle of blue Gatorade and dumping it on his own head triumphantly, crowing all the while about how fucking great they were. Temple cackles manically on the couch. Roderick rolls his eyes and grins. It was actually Peter’s Gatorade, so he’s kind of torn.

“Craig,” he says and Craig squirts some more Gatorade at him. “Craig,” Peter says again, but he’s laughing a little. Craig makes to come after him with more beverages, and Peter escapes to his bunk.

He pulls his cell from his backpack and checks his messages. One from his cousin, two from their manager, one from Temple, who had apparently called to ramble at him when he was sitting six feet away from him in the dressing room. And one from Jenna.

“Peter,” she says, and her voice sounds warmer, a bit deeper than it had at the crowded after party. “This is Jenna. Coleman. Uh, yes, I sort of stalked your manager and got your number. Hope that’s alright and what all. I just wanted to get in touch with you so I could give you an address to send that mix cd to, right? Really, I’m so much more aware of my crap taste in music, now, and it’s just not working is it? I’m bereft, you see. Completely soulless, I need some new tunes.” She laughs a bit, and that is nearly exactly as Peter remembers it. “Ring me back, will you? My number is 07728996874. Cheers.”

Peter saves the message and pulls out his laptop. He opens iTunes and starts a new playlist. For J, he calls it.

* * *

He sends the cd off, and they text back and forth occasionally - nothing too flirty and it is not a big deal. Peter knows this because he tells himself so constantly. Jenna is a nice, funny, gorgeous, movie star girl and Peter is her sort-of friend who has a superior taste in music. That’s all. He’s just educating her.

Then Jenna goes on one of the Late Night shows and tells all watching that Peter is her celebrity crush. And then she’s on the cover of Rolling Stone and she mentions twice how she can’t stop listening to the new Dreamboy’s record. Cosmo asks her what her ideal man is and she says she likes a bloke with a sense of humour, and, she says, “I’m liking musicians now, actually. Not really into that stereotypical clean-cut jock look. How dull, right?”

Craig is beside himself. Temple is stunned, and Roderick is supportive in his mild Roderick way. Peter waits until he’s alone in his hotel room before he calls her. They’re in Manchester, two more shows until Glasgow. She picks up on the second ring.

“Peter! I’m in New York, where are you?”

“Manchester,” he says. “You’re in New York?”

“Yeah, shopping trip with me mum. Are you - do you have a concert or something?”

He nods for a second before he realizes she can’t see him. “Yeah, um. Tonight, actually.”

“Exciting!” Jenna exclaims and Peter laughs.

“Yeah,” he says. “Yeah, it is.” There’s a pause, a slightly awkward silence and Peter clenches his right hand into a fist and decides, fuck it.

“So,” he says. “You - I mean. You like musicians?”

Jenna laughs, but it sounds friendly, not mean. “I’m really fucking bad at subtlety, eh? Though my friend made a wager with me you wouldn’t see the Cosmo thing.”

“Oh,” Peter shrugs. He’s grinning hugely. “Craig reads Cosmo. He sort clipped the article out. It’s taped to the fridge on the bus.” Jenna laughs again. “Look,” Peter says before he can stop himself. “I don’t know what your schedule’s like for the next week, but we’re playing in Glasgow in three days, and I'm from there, yeah? I dunno, I mean. Glasgow shows are usually the best and I could take you to this diner place before and --”

“I’d love to,” Jenna cuts in. “I - I’ll book a ticket tonight.”

Peter stops. He’s been pacing he realizes. “Yeah? That’s -- awesome. Seriously, the food’s really good, you won’t be disappointed.”

Jenna giggles and says she’ll ring him and leave him a message with the details that night. “I’ve never been to Glasgow.”

“Careful,” Peter grins. “You might fall in love.” There’s a nervous laugh on the other end of the line and he quickly back peddles. “With the city!” he says. “You might fall in love with Glasgow.”

“That grand, eh?”

“It’s the best place in the world.”

“Well, hold on, you haven’t let me show you London from _my_ view yet.”

They talk for another hour, making lists of all the reasons why their cities are greater and better than the other’s. Finally Jenna says she has to feed her mum and Peter is ten minutes late for soundcheck anyway. She promises to call again to give him her flight details and when they hang up Peter is thinking that three days is a really, really long time.

* * *

He picks her up from the airport before he even goes to see his family. She could only make it for the night; her flight back to New York to start filming a new movie is at five the next morning. He takes the long way back through the city, pointing out different landmarks and telling different stories from his life there.

“Fantastic,” she keeps saying, and it’s so sincere that Peter knows he’s completely smitten.

The show is phenomenal - Glasgow shows always are - and Peter is buzzing with it when they leave the stage. He looks over a few times during the night to see Jenna jumping up and down and singing along to all the words, and it makes him smile into his mic and grip his guitar harder.

“Fucking brilliant!” she yells at him as he’s taking his guitar off and passing it over to the tech. He’s disgusting, really, covered in sweat and he smells, but she launches herself at him anyway, arms around his neck as she kisses him. She’s a lot shorter than him, and he has to lean down a bit, but he gets it after a second, his hands settling on her back.

They break apart and he looks at her wide-eyed. Jenna just hugs him tighter and presses a series of kisses to his check. “Oh my god!” she yells into his ear. “I don’t want to leave!”

Peter hugs her back, dazed. He still has to do an encore.

* * *

Some gossip site publishes photos of them saying goodbye at the airport, and Jenna’s publicist says her client isn’t in the habit of commenting on her personal life.

“Fuck that!” Craig crows and writes a blog about how Peter’s been really influenced by British pop lately.

“Jesus, Craig,” Peter says, but he’s too fucking happy to really care.

Jenna somehow convinces him to come to a movie premier with her. “It’s not even mine, so it’s not like we’ll really have to stay all that long,” she says and Peter agrees and buys a ticket to London. She had stayed at a hotel when she was in Glasgow, but when Peter asks her about places in the area she says there’s no need, her bed’s plenty big enough.

They go to the premier. Jenna looks stunning and she holds his hand on the red carpet and whispers cutting, witty things in his ear about all the other British actors there.

“Drunk,” she says, pointing at one. “Cunt,” she says, pointing at another. Judi Dench walks by and, “Slag,” says Jenna. They both crack up. She grabs his arm. “Seriously, though, I’m obsessed with her.” Peter can’t help it, he kisses her. Even with the heels she's wearing he has to lean down.

* * *

Her apartment really isn’t all that huge. “All I wanted,” she explains, “was a small place with big windows.”

They wander through, and she’s in the middle of trying to hide her hideous cd collection when Peter pulls her back by the hand and kisses her in her living room. It’s quieter than the kiss at the Glasgow show, but it’s gets deeper quickly. Jenna curls her fingers in the collar of his white button down shirt and he holds one hand against the small of her back, the other high up on her rib cage.

“Peter,” she says quietly against his mouth when they pull apart, and Peter smiles at her. She takes his hand wordlessly and leads him to the bedroom.

* * *

It’s a patchwork quilt of stolen time together after that. Jenna loves acting, says she’s addicted to it, and Peter just isn’t Peter unless he’s playing music or writing it. Somehow, though, it gets to the point where Jenna’s mom sends Peter a birthday present and the doorman at Peter’s place recognizes Jenna when she’s in town. Suddenly, it’s a year later and they make it onto a list of top forty most unlikely celebrity couples.

“Ugh,” Jenna says. She’s sitting on Peter’s bed, wearing one of his shirts and nothing else, which Peter thinks is criminally unfair. He has to go into the studio and concentrate in an hour. “What the fuck do they know?”

Peter stretches out next to her, palms her thigh. “It’s just shocking to people that you’d ever end up with a guy like me.” She snorts.

"Guy like you - what does that even mean?” She wrinkles her nose. “If only they knew the truth! That I practically threw myself at you, had to resort to hidden messages in fucking magazine articles to get you to notice me -"

Peter laughs. “I noticed you! I noticed you that first night!”

“Yes, and you thought to yourself, ‘Oh what a nerd, the poor dear.’”

He shakes his head, smiling. “You’re crazy.”

“Hmmm,” Jenna hums. She slithers down until she’s lying beside him, right up against him, and throws one leg over his hips. “They don’t know shite,” she says lowly, leaning in to kiss him.

“No,” Peter says, kissing her back. “They really don’t.”


End file.
